


No Roots

by magnetar



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday Fluff, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-02 21:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16795381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetar/pseuds/magnetar
Summary: Kylo tries to make Hux's birthday the best and impress him with food, candles and the perfect gift. Except, finding the perfect gift for someone like Hux is harder than he'd thought.





	No Roots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_odd_writer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_odd_writer/gifts).



> For the Kylux Secret Santa! I tried to write something soft and fluffy so I really hope you like it <3

It’s not really hiding, Kylo rationalises, when your name is printed in bold silver letters over the door. Still, Kylo chooses to the fact that he’s pressed himself flat against the bare office walls – in the hope that he can’t be seen from the window. Anything to avoid another conference or, God forbid, a group project. 

Kylo knows that people think he’s lucky and that Snoke is foolish (or, perhaps losing his mind), to have employed Kylo at First Order Industries. Because Snoke is like a man out of time, talking about apprentices and destinies – just like Kylo’s grandfather had done. Snoke understands – he can see Kylo’s potential when everyone else calls him too angry and too creepy.

Although, Kylo knows in the small rational part of his mind, that he really shouldn’t just rely on Snoke’s favour. That he should make an effort to socialise with his co-workers and earn their respect. And yet here he is, hiding out in his own office.

‘It’s on the 20th,’ Finn is saying, his voice distorted and muffled by the wall between them. ‘I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this, but it is in the calendar after all. Don’t know how Snoke managed that one. Just… I’m serious when I say don’t do anything for it. Or even mention it. Man, it’s just not worth it.’

‘Oh okay,’ the woman replies. Distantly Kylo thinks her name is a flower – Daisy, Tulip, Rose, Sunflower? He shakes his head. It’s not important. ‘He’s kind of scary anyway, I wouldn’t want to annoy him by doing the wrong thing.’ 

March 20th? March 20th? The date sticks in his mind, needling at him. He’s sure that it’s familiar but for what reason Kylo isn’t sure. He slides over to his desk, booted feet moving soundlessly against the cheap carpet while keeping his gaze fixed on the window. Once his computer has come back to life the calendar app is easy to find and Kylo quickly scrolls through the week's calendar until he reaches March 20th.

Instead of a meeting or a project, or something equally awful typed neatly into the little box, there’s a small symbol – like a like blocked out cake with a candle. Intrigued, Kylo clicks through to open the date on its own, his other hand fussing idly with his lank hair – twisting the soft strands between his fingertips so that it starts to frizz.

‘Birthday – Armitage Hux’. Even though he only skims over the words with his eyes, Kylo feels himself freeze – fingers knotting through his hair and heart hammering in his chest. His office is still and silent around him, and yet Kylo can’t shake the feeling of being a kid again, caught by Leia with his hand in the Cookie Jar and chocolate smeared across his mouth.

This, he knows with a bone-deep surety, is something he shouldn’t have seen.

Kylo cares about Hux in his own way; they are dating after all. He doesn’t think their relationship would seem normal or even healthy to anyone else, but for them, it works. Neither of them has a normal emotional range, and he’s never cared about Hux’s privacy before – bursting down the carefully built walls surrounding Hux’s past with a sledgehammer and a dose of obliviousness.

But this, this is something else. Somehow Kylo knows that Hux has hidden this from him, that Hux hadn’t wanted him to know for some reason. It’s such a simple detail that Hux has no reason not to tell Kylo otherwise.

Except now he does know and it’s all he can think about. Hux had been so careful, so oddly soft and yet still Hux, on his own birthday – swiftly burning all of the cards that had still somehow made their way onto the mat in their apartment, despite being addressed to Ben Solo. He’d not asked any questions, he's not wanted any answers, he’d not held it selfishly above Kylo’s head – Hux had simply acted, a strange sick smile lighting up his face through the flames and then whisked Kylo out for dinner. So, Kylo can’t help but pick at the thought like a day old wound, for the rest of the day until his plan is ready.

Surely Hux won’t hate him too much for it?

-

Normally Kylo would head home after work and eat his microwave dinner or takeout alone at the kitchen counter. Hux is out most evenings because even after working what anyone else would consider a full day and having to be forcibly removed from his office by Snoke himself, Hux can’t bear to sit still. So, Hux rushes off to the little art centre downtown to teach back-to-back art classes before returning just in time to slip into bed beside Kylo every night.

Tonight, however, Kylo is glad of it because it gives him time to hurry down to the department store near to the office, his cheeks reddened and hot from the cool air. The store is quieter than he’d expected it would be – a few men in suits sweep past him as he steps inside and clusters of older women are gathered around the displays, their conversations just barely audible over the hum of the indistinct music drifting through the store.

None of the clothes on the racks catch his eye – Hux has a very particular style, even if it’s simple, after all. Kylo has learned after a year of knowing Hux and two months living together, that Hux prefers – mostly blacks with some red accents, or the occasional green sweater or tie, everything cut to emphasize the slim lines of his body as well as… enhancing the width of his thin shoulders. All of the clothes here, however, seem too bright to Kylo – with cuts that are low or daring, bright colours or encrusted with sparkling jewels.

He pauses at the end of a rail that has a rainbow of silk dresses with lace across the bust and slits at the side, sweeping from black at one end to white at the other. He reaches out and catches the edge of the dress between his thumb and forefinger feeling the softness in the fabric. He can imagine Hux wearing it - the deep black contrasting against his pale skin and the cut hugging his narrow hips but he lets it slide from beneath his fingers with a sigh, flinching away from the price tag that has far too many zeroes.

He’s almost at the back of the store when he notices the winter clothes collection (discounted, perfect), with tall and slim mannequins decked out in thick winter coats and heavy knitted sweaters and sensible black pants. He moves quickly towards it, hoping for something sensible and stylish and is greeted with the sight of a row of soft looking mohair cardigans in warm, autumnal colours. Perfect.

Kylo picks out a black one in Hux’s size, examining it under the store’s fluorescent lighting. It reminds him of something, it reminds him of…

_Hux, soft and sleepy, snuggled up against the curve of Kylo’s body in a way he never would when he was more awake; when his mind was weighed down by pride and appearances again. Hux’s black sweater had contrasted so well against his pale skin, making him look almost ethereal._

_The movement of the train had rocked Hux’s head so that slowly it had come to rest on Kylo’s shoulder, as Hux’s eyelids had flutter closed. To his surprise, hadn’t moved away and had instead pressed closer with a small sigh. Kylo had felt like every nerve is on fire, with the effort to keep still. He found that he couldn’t quite look away either – Hux had looked so soft, happy and so unlike his usual cold self, that Kylo had drunk in each fragile second._

_‘He trusts me,’ Kylo had realised with a start. He had moved slowly then and curled his fingers into the soft knit of the sweater’s sleeve and felt the narrow bones of Hux’s arm beneath it._

Kylo blinks, setting the sweater back onto the display automatically. Of course, Hux already has a black sweater – more than one, that fit him perfectly. There’s no point in Kylo buying him another and the idea leaves him feeling itchy anyway. Kylo wants to get Hux something new – something special. He’s determined not to fail.

He turns away, heart pounding with defeat, and heads towards the escalator that sweeps him up to the next floor. It’s wide and lavish, travelling dangerously near to a huge glass chandelier that’s hanging from the ceiling – sending rays of twinkling

It’s all so beautiful and delicate that it makes Kylo’s blood boil – it makes him feel too large, too lumbering and out of place. When he reaches the next floor, he’s met by the sight of glittering perfume bottles – delicate pinks and deep reds, and cabinets upon cabinets of jewellery lined up towards the back wall.

Kylo tries to ignore the way the petite assistant stares at him as he shuffles over to one of the cabinets, picking one as far away from her and as near to the back as he can. One of the brooches catches his eye – striking and green and expensive looking. Something Hux would no doubt adore, but Kylo can’t help but be reminded of something else when he looks at it.

_The brooch had sparkled in the early morning light and Kylo had watched silently as Hux had pinned it to the lapel of his jacket. Hux’s slim fingers had moved so delicately – almost reverently, that Kylo could’ve mistaken the brooch for a paper-thin butterfly’s wing instead of a heavy metal brooch encrusted with sparkling red stones._

_The shout had died on his tongue and Kylo had stopped in the doorway unable to do anything but stare. He’d stormed to their bedroom and his anger had tasted hot on his tongue, ready to tell Hux to hurry up getting ready or he’d refuse to go. He hadn’t wanted to go in the first place, Hux was the one who had insisted that they watch the Opera – he’d even secured their own private balcony, which Kylo had thought might be bearable until the night had arrived and with barely 30 minutes to get across London to the concert hall, Hux had still be in their bedroom at his nightstand, ‘getting ready’._

_Against Hux’s complexion and the muted black of his outfit – a blazer, turtleneck, tight-fitting pants and shiny loafers – the brooch was like a splash of blood, vibrant and deep like the fine pale red of his hair. The protest had died in Kylo’s throat and the anger had crumbled on his tongue. At that moment, Kylo Ren had been sure nothing could ever be so beautiful. Then Hux had turned and told him, acidly to ‘stop staring’ and shattered the peaceful little moment – because he was Armitage Hux, after all._

‘Of course,’ he thinks, angrily, ‘Hux already has a perfect brooch. Why would he want this one?’

He steps away from the glass case carefully, as if he might trip over an untied shoelace and hyperaware that the assistant is still staring at him. He hurries to the stairs this time and strides up them two at a time to the next floor, chest heaving from the exertion. With a glance around, he’s sure this floor must be for craft supplies judging by the walls lined with fabrics of all kinds and the rows of sewing machines, and a display with a giant paintbrush. Perfect.

Surely, Kylo reasons striding towards the section with the paintbrush, this would be perfect for Hux. There must be something here that would be the perfect gift for him. He lets his fingertips trail along the spines of the art books lining the shelves and then the canvases neatly wrapped in plastic that’s smooth to the touch. The shelves wind on even further, Kylo following them like a maze and feeling his patience fading with every step.

‘Surely,’ he thinks, pausing as the shelves give way to self-contained displays – rows of brightly coloured paints of all kinds, ‘it can’t be this difficult to find a present. Something perfect. There has to be something.’

Finally, something catches his attention – a set of paints in a sturdy silver tin, stylish and imposing. He takes it off the shelf to examine it, sure that it reminds him of something.

_They’d only been living together for 2 months and Kylo still hadn’t set foot in Hux’s painting studio, set up in the spare room. It was unspoken – Hux himself had never mentioned it, but Kylo had the feeling that this was Hux’s private space, just like Kylo’s frequent trips to the gym. Being in a relationship, Kylo had found, occasionally involved him being a little less selfish. Occasionally._

_He had warred with himself before he had pushed open the door with his hip as a mug filled with steaming tea had taken up his hands. The sight of the room hadn’t been exactly what Kylo had expected, but still so distinctively Hux that Kylo’s chest had ached with it._

_Every available space and surface was taken up with Hux’s tools. There was a bookshelf lined with artist textbooks and paints – in tins, tubes, pots and little glass jars, as well as unused palettes and pots that had almost been overflowing with brushes of every type. Lined up against any free space there had been canvases, sorted by size – some unused and some with paintings on them, a few that Kylo had recognised. In the centre of the room had stood Hux, at his easel and wearing his less than glamourous painters smock._

_Then, Hux had turned to look at him. His glasses had been perched on the tip of his nose, a paintbrush in his hand and his cheeks had been splattered with flecks of paint, like a galaxy of stars, and Kylo had felt the air whoosh out from his lungs._

He sighs and puts the paint set back onto the shelf. He doesn’t know anything about art or what Hux already owns. It’s too obvious a choice. He wants to get Hux something truly special. He takes the escalator up to the next floor – the last, fingers drumming restlessly against the handrail.

Only when he reaches the top and steps off, does Kylo realise his mistake. It only takes a glance for him to realise that this floor is entirely for toys – the shelves lined with colourful stuffed animals, Lego kits and board games.

‘Still,’ he thinks bitterly, clenching his teeth around the sting of failure, ‘maybe a train set or a stuffed bear is the one thing Hux doesn’t have?’

He picks an aisle at random, making his way grimly past rows of Barbie dolls, toy kitchen sets and colouring books starting to feel truly defeated. There’s nothing here, even as a joke, that he thinks Hux would find funny. Every aisle that he turns down into is like a slap in the face – a taste of his own failure, lined with smiling dolls and plushies. Another reminder that he’s not good enough, that he can’t even do this one simple thing – that Hux will be disappointed in him.

He’s about to give up, instead idly wondering if the dinner will be enough when he spots the telescope in a far corner of the store. He’s drawn to it, taking two quick steps in that direction before he can even think, as a memory tugs on the edges of his mind.

_Most of Hux’s paintings are from an architect’s mind – buildings with clean straight lines and neatly spaced bricks, or scenes where the rooms are sweeping, each piece fitting together perfectly. Even his landscapes are carefully ordered as if Hux is determined to exert his will on even nature itself. Except sometimes. Sometimes Hux will wet the tip of his brush and begin to paint freehand with bold strokes of yellow and white and blue and purple and black. Slowly, alien worlds appear on the canvas, stars burning brightly and spaceships that Kylo can’t believe aren’t real, that surely can’t exist only in Hux’s imagination. Hux’s face is always bright and open as he paints these things, his lips always settling into a soft smile._

_And Kylo thinks it must be Hux’s own kind of freedom._

He picks it up and heads for the cash registers, heart racing and palms sweating nervously.

-

The table is set for two, with the ‘nice’ set of dishes and the silver cutlery that Hux doesn’t let him touch for fear that he will break it (‘Well, ha!’ Kylo thinks, ‘I only chipped one saucer.’), with a candle burning in the centre. Kylo’s got his phone hooked up to the speakers, playing the kind of classical music Hux loves (and Kylo loathes) when he hears the sound of the door opening, and Hux’s footsteps coming around the corner. Hux steps into view, splattered with paint and dark circles stark against his pale skin, and utterly beautiful.

‘Ren, what have you…-?’ Hux mumbles, rubbing his eyes sleepily before they blink open, pale and wide as if he’s only just caught sight of the room – of the table, the music, the gift box. ‘Ren?’

‘Happy Birthday!’ He says, tongue thick and slow in his mouth. He tries to aim for happy, excited even but is pretty sure it lands somewhere around annoyed and forced.

Hux is still staring at him, wide-eyed and silent, and Kylo feels his heart sink like stone. This isn’t exactly what he’d been hoping for – Hux looks like a deer in headlights, not impressed. Still, he sits down at the table, staring at the plate of food in front of him. So, that’s something. Still, he doesn’t move to eat any of it or do anything except stare at Kylo, like he’s grown a second head, carefully avoiding looking at the gift perched next to him.

‘It’s for you,’ he says, lamely and waves his hands awkwardly, encompassing the gift and Hux in one gesture. Hux begins to open it, as if he’s in a trance, his hands moving robotically to untie the gift-wrap and fold it into a neat pile.

‘Kylo…,’ Hux’s voice has gone quiet suddenly, low and halting and Kylo can’t tell whether that’s a good or bad sign. The gift lays bare on the table between them – small and insufficient. Kylo feels himself take a deep breath, that still doesn’t feel deep enough.

‘It’s a star,’ he finds himself saying, the words pouring from his mouth before he can stop them – anxious like he needs to explain to Hux. Like he needs, more than anything, Hux to understand. ‘I want to get you a star. But that’s impossible, obviously,’ his voice catches awkwardly as he says it and he’s blinking too fast, he knows. He’s always been so out of control, emotions spiralling away from him wildly, but he’d hoped that he could control himself today. He’d hoped he could seem like the type of boyfriend Hux would want – tall and strong and sophisticated, instead of angry and awkward.

‘So, I got you this, your own little star,’ his eyes travel down Hux’s face, catching on the pendent twinkling up at him from the gift box before he remembers himself – scrambling around at the bedsheets. ‘And this! A real one, but you can’t actually… visit it. Not yet anyway,’ he mumbles, thrusting the certificate in Hux’s direction.

Kylo watches, holding his breath, as Hux takes the certificate from Kylo’s hand, gripping it delicately between his thumb and forefinger – slim, pale and perfectly manicured like the rest of Hux.

‘It’s not enough,’ he thinks as his teeth bite into the meat of his lip, ‘it’s not good enough. He won’t like it.’ The doubt is heavy, churning in the pit of his gut. He wishes he could take it back – not just snatch the paper and the gift box from Hux’s hands, but the entire day. That everything would just go back to how it was before.

‘It’s just more proof,’ Kylo thinks selfishly, ‘that I’m not good enough.’

‘Kylo,’ Hux says, his voice still so quiet that Kylo can’t bring himself to even meet Hux’s eyes. But he doesn’t have to, because Hux’s hand is slipping around his jaw – fingertips cool and smooth where they brush the hinge of Kylo’s jaw and tilting his head up with a gentle pressure.

‘Thank you,’ Hux says, his eyes wide and sincere.

‘You’re welcome,’ Kylo hears himself reply, not missing a beat. He’s never been so convinced about anything in his life.

And then, before he can think before he can do anything, Hux’s lips slide against his own – hot and insistent, Hux’s breath ghosting from between them. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time, the feeling blooming in his chest is so warm and simple. He wants more, wants to touch Hux and be near him, to make him laugh and smile and hold onto that moment forever. All he can do is kiss back, tentative and close-lipped at first, shifting awkwardly closer across the table so that he can slide one hand to the joint of Hux’s knee beneath his fitted black pants.

All too soon they break apart to breathe and Kylo wants to look away, embarrassed at his own softness and this feeling in his chest. Except, Hux is smiling.


End file.
